


Sneezes, Smells and Wedding Bells

by finding_niamho



Series: Fairytales [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Acceptance, Explosions, Fluff, M/M, Slow Dancing, Sneezing, Wedding, pixie dust, strange smells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24837334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finding_niamho/pseuds/finding_niamho
Summary: It's Simon and Baz's wedding, but there's a weird smell in the air. And why can't anyone stop sneezing?
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Shepard & Simon Snow & Agatha Wellbelove, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Fairytales [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767577
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Sneezes, Smells and Wedding Bells

**Author's Note:**

> At the time of posting, it's Simon's birthday so HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SIMON SNOW!!!!! This is the inevitable wedding fic to go with the proposal fic! Thanks so much to everyone who read The Answer, it honestly means so much. I hope you enjoy this one. 🐟 (pssst find me on Tumblr @findingniamho !)

**BAZ**  
We’re going to be late. I keep checking my watch and each time I do, time seems to have jumped forwards at an unnatural rate. I half wonder whether something has somehow managed to sneak into the watch and is now pulling the hands around just to mess with me. Except that the car radio says the same thing. I check again.

“Basilton, if you check that damn watch one more time, I’m throwing it out of the window.” Fiona. She can always be relied upon to treat a situation calmly and delicately. I turn to face the driver’s seat, where she’s sitting in her black dress. She always insisted that she would wear black at my wedding. “To mourn the loss of having you all to myself to annoy. Besides, you’re going to be wearing black, aren’t you?”

I couldn’t argue with that. I’m wearing a black suit with a matching waistcoat and bowtie (as Simon would say, bowties are cool. I prefer the term sophisticated, but there you go). There’s a rose on my lapel (an actual one, the suit itself is plain this time) and, of course, the ring that Simon slipped on my finger a few months ago. The ring that made me believe that all of this was possible again.

It was inevitable, really. All through America, when we were on opposite sides the car or diner tables or motel floors, both of us were silently reaching for the other. It was a relief when we finally got there. When his hand and his gaze could find mine and we could fall in love all over again. I smile down at my hands.

 _I’m getting married,_ I say to myself.

_I’m getting married to Simon Snow._

**SIMON**

This is perfect. We’re breezing along in Penny’s car. It’s a hot day so the window’s open and there’s a warm breeze floating though, ruffling my hair. If I close my eyes, I’m transported back to America and we’re cruising along the highway with nothing but blue skies, endless fields and an old radio to keep us company. Penny’s humming Here Comes the Bride and I’m leaning back in my seat, picturing the day ahead. We’ll arrive first and get into the chapel. It’s the same one that Baz’s parents got married in. All the Pitches have gotten married there. That’s gonna be me soon. A Pitch. Simon Grimm-Pitch. I never thought I’d see the day. I’m going to have a name with something attached to it. Sure, the things attached might be villainy and dark magic, but it’s also attached to a family. I’m going to officially be part of a family. Of course, Penny, Shepard and even Agatha feel like family to me but now I’m going to know what it’s like to have a mother and a father. Sitting around a dinner table at Christmas, small squabbles that are forgotten soon after, family jokes that no one else quite gets. All of that is just at the end of this car ride, along with Baz.

Baz, who saved me from the mage.

Baz, who saved me from myself.

Baz, with his grey eyes and sarcastic smile and not-quite-right nose. Who loves me, all of me.

I sit further back, putting my arms behind my head. My wings and tail are spelled away for now, but we’re bringing them back for the ceremony. Baz said that if he was marrying me, he wanted to marry all of me. That’s also another reason why Baz will be the one walking down the aisle towards me; I don’t want anyone unconscious at my wedding.

Here Comes the Bride stops abruptly and Penny exclaims: “Simon! You’ll crease your suit!”

“Argh! Sorry, Pen.”

“That’s okay, Simon.”

A sit back up and she glances at me for a moment before turning to face the road again. I haven’t seen her smile like that in a long time. I think she’s more excited than me about all this, really. She and I spent hours making her car clean enough so that I could sit in it in my suit. She’s wearing a yellow dress, similar to the one that Baz nicked for her when we were running out of money and time. She worried about me a lot, before. She and Baz both did. I try not to think about those times too much. I’ll take the time to unpack and deal with those memories one day, but for now, I’m content to just sit here and natter with Penny.

“Do you think you’ll ever get married?”

Penny’s eyes keep firmly fixed on the road.

“I don’t know, maybe.” She’s paying extra-close attention to her mirrors as we change lanes.

“What about Shep?”

“You’re wondering if I think that Shep would get married?”

“No! Well, yes. To you.”

A pause. Then, “Don’t be absurd! We’ve only known each other a few months. And he probably wouldn’t be interested in me anyway.”

She shakes her head as I’ve seen her shake it many times before, like she’s trying to throw an idea out of her brain. I smirk at her.

“You hesitated.”

“Because I was thinking it through!”

I raise an eyebrow, Baz style. “So, it was worth thinking about?”

She’s going red. Interesting. “You know well enough that it’s important to consider every eventuality, Simon. Anyway, this is your wedding day, not mine.”

“I would point out that you’re changing the subject, but you’re right.” I turn to look out at the window again, my thoughts turning back to the day ahead and I smile. “It is.”

**AGATHA**

This is probably the most exercise that I’ve done since I was at school, where I spent most of my time running with Simon from whatever happened to be chasing him that day. All day, Shepard and I have been loading things from his truck into the hall opposite the chapel and then putting them out: streamers, tablecloths that complement the napkins, speakers for the band, glasses, champagne to go in the glasses, cutlery (which Shepard kept putting out wrong), centrepieces, balloons and loads of other wedding stuff. We’ve been here all morning and we’re still nowhere near done. It makes me wish that I hadn’t left my wand at home.

I plonk yet another box of plates on the table closest to the door and survey the room. It does look pretty good, I have to admit. I reckon even mother will approve. Everything is white and gold, and the place settings look spectacular. Streamers are hanging from the ceiling and the sunlight that streams through the window glints off the glasses, making them sparkle. I smile as I look over to the table to where Simon and Baz will sit later today as a married couple, next to Penny – who’s been made “best woman” – and Baz’s parents. I expect a part of me to be sad that Simon will be sitting there next to someone who isn’t me. But instead, there’s a calm in me, a peace I haven’t felt since, well, ever. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m truly where I belong. Not at Watford, pretending to care about being a good Mage. Not in California, pretending to care about levelling up and changing the world. But in between, actually caring about these people who now surround me.

I think deep down, I’ve known for a long time that this is how all this would end. And Merlin, aren’t I glad.

“Agatha!” calls Shepard.

“Coming!” I yell back. I take one last look at the empty, quiet room before stepping back out into the sun.

***

We’re nearly ready now. I’m changed into my bridesmaid’s dress (Baz’s siblings and I will all wear matching pale pink) and I’m standing outside the chapel, putting together confetti baskets for the children. Shepard comes around the corner to help, phone in hand. He’s changed, too. It’s a strange sight, Shepard in a suit. He holds up the phone.

“That was Simon. They’re nearly here.”

My stomach flutters nervously. “Are we ready?”

“All set! Nice job, Agatha.”

“Thanks. You too.”

We sit in silence for a moment. Shep’s restless, he keeps fidgeting, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just a bit nervous I guess.”

I look up at him, where he’s squinting into the late May sun, still not staying still.

“Why? You realize _you’re_ not getting married, right?” He goes a bit red at that. Honestly, I’m surrounded by fools. First Simon and Baz, now Shepard and Penelope. It almost makes me wished that I’d stayed in California, just to avoid all these will-they-won't-they shenanigans. Almost.

“Well, I guess that I don’t really feel like I fit in here. I’m going to be the only Talker, the only Normal, at this wedding.”

That’s true, I guess. Some of Baz’s family were a bit funny about letting him come. Some things never change, I guess. But he has saved their lives several times, in suppose. In America, and after.

“Baz and Simon wanted you here, Shepard. They care for you, very much. As do I. And Penelope. Once you’ve survived a crisis at Watford, you’re bonded for life, I guess.”

He takes a deep breath, then smiles quietly down at me. “Yeah, you are.”

He looks back up the road, to where we parked the truck this morning, along with some of the things for the wedding. The planners have packed up and gone now, so it’s just sitting there by itself. Shepard points a thumb over his shoulder. “Hey, so there’s one more box in the back. Feeling strong?”

I flex my non-existent biceps. “Of course.”

I stand up and together we walk back to the truck.

**SIMON**

As we pull up to the chapel, I can sense that something’s wrong. The air is jumpy and static, and there’s a funny smell coming from somewhere. It’s too sweet, like that time that I stuffed 20 marshmallows into my mouth (Baz dared me, so it was justified). Next to me, Penny starts sneezing.

“Pen?”

When she turns to me, I see that her eyes are streaming. “Simon! It’s – achoo – it’s-.” But then she’s cut off my several more sneezes before she can speak. Her voice is hoarse, like the words are trapped in her throat. “Pixie dust.”

“Pixie dust?”

“I’d know that smell anywhere,” she wheezes, before sneezing several more times. There must be loads of it to make her react like this. Outside, I notice that several of our guests are here: some of Baz’s family, the Bunces and Agatha’s parents are all gathered outside the chapel. And all of them are sneezing.

“Stay here.” I slide out of the car to investigate. As I approach the crowd, Shepard and Agatha emerge from it. Both of them are changed for the ceremony and Agatha’s dress ripples out behind her as she runs urgently towards me.

“Simon!” Agatha exclaims.

“What’s going on?” I ask, looking between Agatha, who seems to be holding back tears and Shepard, whose face is drawn and worried.

“We were setting up,” Agatha starts, voice shaking, “when we realized that there was one more box to unpack, so we went to the truck to get it. We figured that it was for the chapel, not the hall because everything had already been set up in there. But when we opened it up, it… it…”

“It blew up,” Shepard finishes for her.

“It blew up?”

“Kaboom.” He gestures with his hands. “I think it was an invisible box that an ogre that I met in the Andes planted on me because I accidentally used his toothbrush.”

“That’s gross,” Agatha mutters. He ignores her. “They’re tricky things, come in and out of sight as they please. I thought it was just another box of wedding things.”

“So now there’s tonnes of pixie dust everywhere. It’s fine in smaller quantities but this-.” She sneezes. “It’s not good, Simon.”

Shepard puts an arm out to the sneezing guests. “We told them to wait outside. We don’t want them to get any closer but there’s nowhere else for miles where we could go to get help.”

“Is Baz here yet?”

“No, he said that he and his aunt are running late. He was super stressed out.”

Okay, at least Baz is safe. Typical him, getting so caught up about punctuality though. I would laugh about it if my wedding wasn’t on the verge of being ruined. I look around at our guests. Baz’s relatives stand in small, scattered circles. Penny’s mum has one protective arm around a girl (Priya, I think) and is sneezing into the elbow of the other. In fact, everyone is sneezing uncontrollably. Everyone, except...

I turn to Shep. “How come you’re ok?”

He shrugs. “Guess it only affects magickal folk.”

That explains me, then. I turn towards Agatha. “Get the guests into the reception hall, me and Shep will go into the chapel to try to clear up. Right?”

Shepard nods. “Right.”

Agatha sneezes again, setting off into the crowd. But then she stops and turns. “You’ll get your wedding, Simon. I promise. You’ve given so much to the world; it’s time you got something in return.”

“Thanks, Agatha.” I nod, unable to say anything more around the lump that’s just come to my throat. She smiles with quiet understanding before starting to herd the guests across the road. That’s when I notice how bad the stench is again. I cover my nose with my arm to try to block it out.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” I say to Shepard. My voice comes out muffled through the fabric. “We’ll see if Penny can do anything about this.” I flap my other arm around, trying to waft the sickly-sweet scent away. “Then we’ll try to clean up.”

“You got it, boss.”

Then we head towards Penny’s car where she is (still) sneezing.

**BAZ**

I knew it. We’re late. As Fiona turns down the road that leads to the chapel, I squint to look ahead to the entrance, where there are only a couple of people hanging back outside. Everyone else must already be inside, waiting for me. Brilliant. As we get closer, I see that it’s Simon and Shepard, standing by Bunce’s car.

That’s odd.

Fiona parks at the opposite side of the road, remaining silent. Fiona’s never silent. I think that she can sense that something’s wrong, too. There’s a strange smell in the air. She lets me get out by myself to see what’s going on. As I approach Bunce’s car, Simon and Shepard turn to me. They’re both dressed ready for the ceremony, Simon in a suit that complements mine. When I look at him, his eyes light up and he smiles.

“Baz!”

It’s still strange, sometimes. To hear Simon say my name with anything other than contempt or anger. To hear it with a kind of soft, private joy that warms my heart each time I hear it. All that time at Watford, I always dreamed of this day. Not my wedding day, specifically (although that daydream did sometimes sneak up on me when I wasn’t paying attention), but the day when Simon said my name and it meant something different. The day that those unremarkable blue eyes looked into mine with affection, not violence. The day that his hands unclenched from their fists and reached out to hold mine. And to see him, now, here, knowing that later that same mouth that used to yell and scream at me would be saying “I do” and kissing me? I remember when all of this was just a dream from the other side of the room. But now we’re here.

I smile back at him.

“Hello, love.”

**SIMON**

He looks good. He _always_ looks good, the tosser. His hair flows freely down to his shoulders and his deep-water grey eyes are shining as his lips quirk up to smile at me. That smile’s going to be gone pretty soon. I brace myself.

“Baz, we’ve got a problem.”

As I explain the situation to him, I watch his face fall and it breaks my heart. But his eyes remain steeled with a fierce determination. I’ve seen that expression before. He’ll stop at nothing to save this.

“So Shep and I are going to go into the chapel-.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No, Baz! It’s too dangerous.”

“This is my wedding too, so we’re going to save it together, okay?” He folds his arms and sets his mouth in a firm line. “I’m not changing my mind. It’ll be much quicker with the three of us.”  
I roll my eyes. “Okay fine. Penny?”

Penny holds out her wand. “Quickly, before I start sneezing again. Okay. **_You’ve gone... nose blind!_** ”

Baz wrinkles his nose. “Febreze, Bunce?”

“The Normals quote it,” she shrugs, then sneezes again.

“How come you seem to have it worse than everyone else?” I ask.

Penny somehow manages to glare and sneeze at the same time while grounding out one word: “ _Trixie_.”

Ah, that explains it. Penny’s roommate used to spread it all over their room. It must make her less tolerant of it than everyone else. It was never as much as this, though. Penny stops sneezing long enough to fix all three of us with a fierce look.

“Now, you three had better sort this out and have the best wedding day ever, okay?” She says it like a threat, but she means well.

“Thanks, Pen.”

“You’ll look after them, won’t you Shep?”

He grins and gives her a weird kind of salute. They look at each other for a moment, and something passes between them. Then Shepard leans on the car door. I think he’s trying to look casual, but it just looks like he’s forgotten how to stand up properly. Merlin, is that what I look like when I think I look cool? Crowley.

“Shepard,” Penny says.

“Yes?”

“Stop leaning against my car.”

“Sorry.” He straightens up, arms flapping. I can see Baz and Penny both trying desperately not to roll their eyes. “Well, we should go.”

“I’ll be waiting in the hall,” says Penny. “Good luck, and be careful.”

“Don’t worry, Pen. We’ve got this.”

We wave her off, then head towards the doors to the chapel.

“Right,” I say. “Let’s see how much of a disaster we’re dealing with this time.”

Shepard looks up at the chapel, squinting in the sun. “Here we go again.”

Baz takes my hand and squeezes it. He leads me towards the chapel. “Here we go.”

**BAZ**

Shepard and Wellbelove weren’t exaggerating. It’s everywhere. The smell’s worse in here, and despite it being dampened slightly by Bunce’s Febreze spell, it still makes me want to gag. Plus, there’s the sight of it, which makes my eyes water. Why does everything to do with pixies have to be so sparkly and bright? It looks a lot like tastelessly pink glitter. Shepard emerges from the alcove off the entrance with two brooms and a dustpan and brush. Simon claps his hands together, then winces like he realises how idiotic that looks. I shake my head, rolling my eyes. Honestly, I must have truly lost my marbles to still want to marry him of all people. But here we are. Maybe I’m the idiot.

“Right.” Simon clears his throat. “Shepard, if you take over there,” he gestures towards the alter, “and Baz and I start this end, then we’ll work across. You take the middle and we’ll do the sides.”

“Cool.” Shepard hands one of the brooms to Simon and the dustpan and brush to me. He starts walking down the aisle, whistling like he’s just going out to mow the lawn, not sweep up the remains of a magickally explosive box and its overly sparkly contents.

“Thanks,” I whisper to Simon. I don’t think either of us wants to walk down the aisle until the time comes. He nods in silent understanding, which is his way of saying you’re welcome. I kneel on the ground, rolling up my sleeves and wincing. This is going to ruin my very nice, very expensive suit. But my priority right now is to save our wedding.

I look up at Simon. “Let’s get to work.”

**SIMON**

We work in comfortable silence, me sweeping and Baz brushing dust into his dustpan and occasionally getting up to empty it into the bin. We’re both filthy, but I guess it doesn’t matter anyway. There’s a lump in my throat as I continue to sweep the dust into a pile. I look at the aisle Baz should be walking up; at the alter we should be standing at; at the doors we should be walking out of hand in hand, as husbands. I suppose I should’ve seen this coming. It just feels like this always happens when I’m around. Like I’m the one causing it, with my streak of bad luck that follows me around like a shadow. I should’ve somehow known that this would happen, I should’ve warned everyone, should’ve-.

“Simon?”

I look down at where I’ve been very aggressively sweeping pixie dust in no particular direction, causing it to fly up and float around everywhere, including all over Baz. Great.

“Sorry,” I mutter to Baz but don’t move.

He stands. “Simon, what’s wrong?”

His voice is soft, like how he used to speak to me when I would spend my days on the sofa, feeling like nothing was worth getting up for. I shake my head, feeling on the verge of tears. But I have to stay strong. This is supposed to be the happiest day of our lives. The thought makes me start stammering.

“I-it’s just. I can’t. I. It’s that...”

Baz’s face tells me to take my time. He knows that words are still a bit tricky for me.

I take a shaky breath. “This isn’t how this was supposed to go. It’s all ruined.”

I start crying proper then. “And I can’t help feeling like this is all my fault, like it is every bloody time.”

He walks slowly over to me and places both his hands lightly on my shoulders.

“Simon, did you plant an invisible box in the truck that’s been magickally rigged to explode?”

“Well, no, but-.”

“Did you then fill the said box with sickly-sweet scented pixie dust that causes a bout of sneezing fits for any mage that comes near?”

“I guess not.”

“Simon, I know that you think that you somehow caused this, but listen to me when I say that this is not your fault. Growing up, I know you were told that everything was your responsibility but the weight of the world doesn’t rest on your shoulders. You weren’t even there when the box blew up, for Crowley’s sake! This is your wedding day, Simon. When everyone’s supposed to fuss around you and help you because you are special and loved, and I’m not just talking about me.”

“But it’s your day too! We were supposed to say “I do,” and cut the cake, and have our first dance. But instead-.”

“Simon,” he says. One of his hands slides from my shoulder down my arm to take my hand. He holds our clasped hands up and steps closer to me so I have no choice but to look into his eyes. We start turning slowly on the spot, Baz humming a made-up tune as we sway in each other’s arms. Our shoes leave quiet footprints in the dust. The light streaming in from the stained-glass window splashes colour onto us as we step in and out of the darkness and the light. As it lights up half of his face, and half of mine, I remember what today is really about.

It’s his coarse, rough, fire-holder’s hand holding mine and me holding his back.

It’s his soft grey eyes looking into mine and me looking back.

And, as we slow to a stop, his lips kissing mine.

And me, with all the love I have for him, with all that I am, kissing him back.

We’ve been through it all, but we came out the other side together. We can still have perfect moments with each other, even when everything’s gone to shit. This is the beginning of a lifetime of perfect moments.

“Thank you,” I whisper, laying my head on his shoulder.

“Anytime, Simon,” he murmurs into my hair. “Anytime.”

**BAZ**

For a moment, there’s peace. There’s just me and Simon, and the only sound is our breathing as we hold each other and stay so, so still. Then there’s a clattering and banging from the other end of the chapel and a call of “I’m OK!” from Shepard. I step back, smiling fondly down at Simon.

“We’d better get back to work,” I say.

“Yeah,” he replies, meeting my smile with a stunning one of his own.

I kneel back down and start sweeping more dust into the dustpan. I’m glad when I look up and see Simon sweeping the dust into (much calmer, much more orderly) piles. We’re moving a lot more efficiently now; we can start doing the rest of the chapel soon.

When I next stand up to empty the dustpan, I gasp and yell “Look out!”

Simon turns sharply, startled.

Right into the lit candle behind him.  
It topples over and the holder cracks in two. The candle rolls across the floor, igniting the dust that still coats the edges of the room. That’s when I learn that there’s one thing that vampires and pixie dust have in common: they’re both extremely flammable.

The flame snakes its way up the walls and curls around the wooden beams in the ceiling. Ash begins to rain down and I cough as the smoke enters my lungs. I can hear a creaking above me and look up just in time to see a beam collapse and begin to hurtle its way down towards where I’m standing. I brace myself for the impact. _Great_ , I think. _I’m going to die on my wedding day. I suppose that means my corpse will be well-dressed, at least._

An arm comes around me and I’m tackled to the ground just before the flaming beam hits me. My head smacks into stone as I’m shoved against a wall. A trail of warm, sticky blood trickles from my temple down the side of my face. I don’t dare to open my eyes as I hear the destruction around me roar in my ears, the smell of burning intensifying with the heat. It’s only when I hear eerie silence, like someone’s put a blanket over me, that I open my eyes. I’m met with the sight of Simon’s face scrunched up and inches from mine and his wings spread out behind him, their edges burnt from shielding us from the flame and rubble that rained down upon us.

**SIMON**

“Simon, love. Open your eyes.”

Baz’s voice is soothing as I slowly blink myself back to here and now. Baz is sitting in front of me. One side of his face covered in blood. He’s sitting in my shadow, which I can see is winged. I try to move my wings but wince in pain. Burnt. I don’t remember the spell wearing off, or saving Baz. I just remember needing to move and then opening my eyes down here. I look behind me at the remains of the chapel. There are bits of rubble and shattered glass everywhere, just like there was in the White Chapel.  
I did it again.

I start crying, then sobbing, then howling. This is what always happens. This is how this always ends. Magic or not, I always manage to make everything explode around me and take out anyone in my path, including Baz. He’s going to want to leave, I know it. Because I’m a fuckup, as I’ve shown again and again. Because I can’t leave who I was behind. Because-.

This time, it’s Baz’s arm that comes around me to save me. To save me from myself, as he always does.

“I’m here,” is all he says.

I cry even harder into his shoulder.

**BAZ**

Once we’ve extracted ourselves from the wreckage and established that Shepard’s okay (he is – he heard us from the other end of the chapel and escaped through the other door), Simon and I stand side by side, looking at the burnt remains of the chapel. It’s still smoking slightly, but luckily some of our guests have managed to use _**It’s raining cats and dogs**_ to put out the rest of the fire and _**Clear the air**_ to get rid of most of the smoke. It’ll take a little while to repair the damage to the chapel, but it’s nothing that can’t be handled with the combined magic of everyone here.

While everyone sets to work to try to save this wreck of a day, I try to console Simon. He grew up thinking that he was nothing, then the Mage told him that he was everything. He still is everything, to me. It just makes him feel like anything that happens is his fault, like he still has the power to fight whatever gets thrown his way. Over the past few months, he was slowly coming around to the idea that he isn’t responsible for every disaster that he comes across. He was finally starting to realise that his mistakes don’t make _him_ a disaster – they make him human.  
I put my arm around his shoulder and he leans his head on mine. He stopped crying a few minutes ago but still hasn’t said anything. He breathes quietly next to me and a gentle breeze comes to ruffle his hair.

“What are we gonna do now?”

His voice is tentative, like he’s afraid of the answer. I survey the wreckage again, with the groups of our friends and family gathered around it holding wands, rings and staffs aloft. The air is heavy with magic, and with shouting; the Bunces are running a tight ship. They’re working quickly, but I’m not sure if it’ll be enough. We’ll probably be done by tomorrow, but the chapel and hall are only ours for today.

There’s no way I’m postponing. I know that no matter what, I want to be married by the end of today. Crowley knows we’ve had to wait long enough.

I take Simon’s hand and squeeze it.

“I have an idea.”

**SIMON**

I have no idea where we’re going. I’ve already asked Baz at least 10 times, and every time he’s just raised an eyebrow and said: “You’ll see.”

He’s lucky I love him because it’s gotten more infuriating each time.

All I know is that he and his aunt went off somewhere and when they came back they were both grinning like maniacs. Then his aunt tossed him her car keys, told him not to wreck the car and we both got in and started driving. We’re going along the main road now, Baz’s eyes bright as we drive along. We’re both filthy: our clothes are ripped and bloodstained, and there are holes in the back of my suit from my wings and tail (which have been spelled away again). There’s still a trail of blood down the side of Baz’s face. I reach out to touch it and his hand gently takes mine and moves it away. He doesn’t let go, though. We stay like that until he has to change gears and he slows down to a stop in front of a gate.

And that’s when I realise where we’re getting married.

In the place where we met as enemies.

In the place where we fell in love.

In the place where I asked Baz to marry me.

Watford.

**BAZ**

Simon’s smile is one that I’ll never forget. As he gazes up at the gates to Watford, his lips turn up and his eyes shine. The late afternoon sun makes his hair seem to glow, as well as the constellations of freckles on his face, which has blown open into wild, unmistakable joy. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, then turns it towards mine. His cheek catches against the seat, squishing half of his face and rearranging the freckles. It’s adorable.

I mentally capture this moment of him and me, sharing this space alone before we’re going to be surrounded by people again. I capture his smile and his eyes and the feeling of his fingers intertwined with mine as he catches my hand again and the way it feels when the rings on them clink together. Unfamiliar, yet so right at the same time. As if they were always meant to be there. I capture the filth in his fair, and the dots of blood that pepper his cheeks. All of my imperfectly perfect Simon Snow.

I capture his voice as he leans in to whisper to me.

“Come on Baz.” Then he kisses me fleetingly, just once. But Crowley, if it isn’t one of the best of my life. He tugs at my hand.

“Let’s get married.”

**SIMON**

We walk up to the White Chapel hand in hand. Baz explains that everyone else will be on their way. Apparently, his aunt has a few people who owe her favours who can clean up the chapel. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d just called some people and scared them into helping by threatening to turn them into nine-toed trolls. But the thought’s nice.

As we walk, we talk about our memories of this place: the yew tree where he sent me to wait for Agatha all night, the football pitch where I used to watch him play, the spot where he tried to steal my voice. All of these memories, painful or not, seem so far away now. We were children then, and now we’ve grown up. We’ve changed and grown and laughed and cried alongside each other.

Whether we were fighting or learning or figuring ourselves out, it was always with each other. And now we stand with each other at the door to the White Chapel where everything changed for us.  
We fall silent when we reach the doors. I squeeze Baz’s hand and he squeezes back.

“I love you,” I say quietly.

“I love you too, Snow.”

Then we don’t say anything else as we sit with our backs against the wall and wait for the world to catch up with us.

**BAZ**

I stand outside the chapel doors with Father, waiting for everyone else to settle down inside. Wellbelove’s fussing over my siblings a few metres behind us. I can hear Mordelia kicking up a tantrum over having to wear pink. As quiet overtakes the other side of the door, Father turns to me.

“Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

And I mean it. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. Father goes to open the doors.

It was difficult, in the beginning. I knew that he always suspected that I was queer, but we’d never had a frank conversation about it. It was one of the topics that we simply had an unspoken rule to never discuss. It was that, my mother’s death and my vampirism. After returning from America, I realised that if I wanted to fix things with Simon, I needed to find peace with myself first. That involved going to therapy (I agreed that I’d go if Simon did) and telling my family, plain and simple, that I was gay. And that I was dating Simon Snow. At first, Father didn’t say much about it. He spent long hours in the library, looking over family photos and staring out of the window. Eventually, he showed me a photo of my mother.

“This is the last picture that was taken of her before she died,” he said, holding it up. Then he started talking about how much he missed her and still does, how he wished that he had been with her when it happened. How hard it was to look at me sometimes because of how much I looked like her. Then I told him about how Simon had caught me in her office looking at a picture of myself that she’d kept with her. How that had been the start of something. I told him about that Christmas and America and all that Lamb had told me about my kind. I told him how it made me unsure about many things but the only thing I was still sure about was how I felt about Simon. Little by little, day by day, Father began to come around to the idea of Simon and I being together. Sure, it took a lot of work. There were good days and bad days. But now here he is, about to walk me down the aisle towards a boy, not a girl as he probably envisioned for me one day.  
But there’s genuine love in his eyes as he says: “I’m proud of you, Basilton. And your mother would be too.”

“Thank you.” I’m too choked up to say anything else.

He swings open the doors and leads me down the aisle.

**SIMON**

It’s work not to turn around when I hear Baz approaching. I smile, knowing that I only have to be without him for a few moments more. (Also I can’t turn around for fear of knocking someone over with my wings). Baz steps up beside me glances sideways, grinning.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” I smile back.

We turn to face Penny’s mum, who agreed to officiate. As the ceremony starts, I look around at us. At our wedding. It’s not exactly how I pictured it: Baz and I are both still pretty filthy and the location is different but it’s almost better. This place holds painful memories, yes, but this chapel is where things changed for both of us. And we’re both still here, despite it all, agreeing to spend the rest of our lives together.

“Do you, Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, take Simon Snow to be your husband?”  
Baz takes both of his hands in mine. “I do.”

“And do you, Simon Snow, take Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch to be your husband?”

And I’ve never been surer of anything than when I say: “I do.”  
Baz slips a ring onto my finger and I put one onto his. It’s strange how the feeling of his cold hands in mine is so familiar, yet what we’re doing is so unfamiliar at the same time. I guess everything we do now is going to be unfamiliar because it’ll be the first time that we do it as a married couple. Or maybe nothing will feel different at all. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together. We always do.

Penny’s mum spreads her arms wide. “I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss.”

In the moment before Baz and I kiss, something makes me cast a glance towards the back of the chapel. Three women are standing there: Ebb, Baz’s mum and a woman with blonde curly hair that I vaguely recognise as the girl in a photo that Agatha showed me once.

My mother.

Baz follows my gaze and I have no words for the expression on his face when he sees his mum for the first time since her death. Then I blink and they’re gone.

Baz and I kiss, the first of many kisses that we’ll have: that day as we celebrate with our family and friends, as we walk (just the two of us) by the lake after the party, tomorrow when we wake up next to each other at the beginning of our life together. And each and every day after that.

When we break apart to face our congregation, I think I see the ends of a pair of glittering green wings leaving the chapel. And a voice that follows them. A voice that sounds almost exactly like chiming bells...

I silently thank Liliana, granter of wishes, for letting those who care about us see us one more time.

Then I take Baz’s arm and we leave the chapel, smiling and waving at everyone. Penny tackles us in a tear-soaked hug, then Agatha joins, and Shep. I hear Baz’s aunt whoop and see his dad give us both a smile. It’s the start of a spectacular celebration.

A few hours later, I take Baz into my arms and flap my wings.

“Are you ready?” I ask.

My husband responds by kissing me.

And away we fly.


End file.
